


laws of the universe

by slvtherxn



Series: snippets of life [1]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Fluff, Isak is the sweetest, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Parallel Universes, Sleepy and sweet, even is coming out of an episode, they’re both soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 14:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slvtherxn/pseuds/slvtherxn
Summary: “We’re always together,” he says, as if he’s certain of it, “It’s one of the laws of the universes, Ev.”





	laws of the universe

**Author's Note:**

> quick little thing I wrote about Even surfacing from a depressive ep & Isak being the sweetest boy in all the universes <3 I miss them more than anything

“What do you think the parallel universe versions of us are doing right now?” 

 

Even rolls from his side onto his back, his eyes opening and blearily focusing on the ceiling. His voice is hoarse, deep and croaky as if it’s been a while since he’s used it— it has. It’s been so long, actually, that Isak startles from next to him, jumping a little in surprise. 

 

“I don’t know,” Isak says, and Even thinks to himself that Isak sounds tired. Tired from looking after him, tired because it’s probably very late at night. He doesn’t know. The windows and curtains are drawn shut, and he’s been sleeping all day. “Probably something similar to this.” 

 

Even frowns. Isak doesn’t even seem upset that every Isak in every universe is forced to lay here with him, weighed down by watching over him as he sleeps, tethered to the bed with sadness. He’s not enough, and too much at the same time. 

 

“You know. Sleeping,” Isak hums as if that’s all they’re doing, and he rolls over on his side to look at Even. Even though Even’s eyes are on the ceiling above them instead of on Isak, he can see Isak watching him from his peripheral. “Or trying to sleep.”

 

He sounds happy, Even thinks, and it soothes the guilt in his stomach like warm tea when everything else is freezing cold. 

 

“Or maybe we’ve just woken up,” Isak continues. His voice cuts through Even’s thoughts and he shrugs, so tiny and soft that Even wants to scoop him up and kiss his face, if only he had the energy to move over. He doesn’t, but it’s a nice thought to have. “Because of time zones.” 

 

Even swallows. “Together?” He asks, and he hates himself for how his voice wavers in the middle, and he hates himself for how he needs Isak to verify that and reassure him. He’s  _ older,  _ he’s more  _ experienced,  _ he should be reassuring Isak instead of the other way around. 

 

He’s so cold again. He reaches for a corner of the blanket, pulling it higher over his shoulders, even though he knows Isak is probably going to end up stealing it during the night. It’s a constant thing, falling asleep under the blankets, snuggled close to Isak, and waking up blanket-less, snuggled with an Isak blanket burrito. He wouldn’t change it for all the warmth in the world. Isak deserves to be able to snuggle up like that. 

 

“Of course,” Isak says. He reaches one tentative hand out and smoothes the blanket over Even’s shoulders, almost like he’s tucking Even in. When Even doesn’t shy away, he slides a little closer. 

 

Even turns his head to look at Isak. When their eyes meet, Isak smiles, warm and reassuring. “We’re always together,” he says, as if he’s certain of it, “It’s one of the laws of the universes, Ev.” 

 

“There are laws?” Even asks, if only because he doesn’t want Isak to stop talking. 

 

Isak scoffs in that way he does when they’re joking back and forth, when he’s absolutely positive he’s right. Fuck, Even has missed it. 

 

“Of course,” he says, shaking his head a little. “Otherwise everything would be chaotic and random.” 

 

Even hums. He feels a bit like he’s just waking up, like he’s been comatose for a while and is slowly coming out of it. “Isn’t everything in the universe a bit chaotic and random anyways?” 

 

Isak’s eyebrows scrunch together. Even wants to smooth the wrinkle out with his finger, and kiss the skin there. He doesn’t move. “Yeah,” Isak gives in, “But there are laws in the parallel universes so that everything doesn’t just fall apart.” 

 

Even nods, accepting the answer. “Okay,” he murmurs, turning his head away from Isak to stare at the ceiling, to lose himself in thought for a moment or two. His eyes focus on Isak’s hand, smoothing over the blanket over his shoulders, gentle and soothing, soft strokes. It’s repetitive, and he counts the strokes in twos, nice even numbers. One, two. One, two. He pauses for so long that he’s momentarily worried that Isak forgot what they were talking about. 

 

“Like what?” He asks anyways. 

 

Isak shifts closer, and Even knows he’s watching him again. Whether it’s worry, or curiosity, or something else, he doesn’t know. 

 

“Well,” Isak says, as if he’s well versed in this question, “One of the laws is that you’re always really hot.” 

 

It surprises Even so much that his mouth curls into a tiny smile. He turns his head to look at Isak, and Isak looks so damn self-satisfied, so pleased, that Even’s lips pull up more at the corners, smile soft and genuine. 

 

Even watches him for a moment, and then asks, “Is one of the laws that you’re terrible at cooking?” 

 

A surprised laugh bubbles up from Isak’s throat. It makes Even feel good and bad. Good, because he loves to see Isak laugh— he missed that noise, that expression on his face more than anything. Bad, because Isak sounds terribly surprised at a joke from him, because he hasn’t been able to make Isak laugh for too long. 

 

“Probably,” Isak agrees, “And that you’re terrible at doing chores.” 

 

It might’ve made Even feel bad, if Isak’s tone wasn’t so happy, like he doesn’t mind doing all the chores while Even dances around the kitchen and distracts him with makeout sessions. Instead, he sighs, swallows, his eyes still on Isak next to him. He wants to memorize Isak’s face, every curve, every dimple, just so he call recall it whenever Isak isn’t there. 

 

The silence between them is comfortable, much easier than it has been the past few days. Isak doesn’t look so worried, and while Even’s head still feels heavy and slow, he isn’t stuck in the darkest parts of it. 

 

Isak moves his hand from the blankets, slowly, to cup Even’s cheek, brush gently back through his hair. It’s greasy, but Isak doesn’t seem to mind— of course, Even doesn’t either, his eyes sliding closed in comfort. 

 

“Isak,” he murmurs, only barely loud enough for Isak to hear. 

 

Isak brushes his thumb over Even’s cheek. “Yeah?” He asks, so soft and innocent and sleepy that Even wants to snuggle his voice close and keep it forever, right here in this bed along with the feeling that it gives him. He wants to feel like that forever, so overwhelmed with love that it cuts through the dull sadness in his brain. 

 

“Do you think…” He takes a slow breath in, opens his eyes. “Do you think there’s a universe where I’m not bipolar?” 

 

Isak’s hand stills. He’s quiet for a moment, so quiet that it makes Even want to melt into the mattress so it swallows him whole. 

 

“No,” Isak says, and he suddenly sounds a lot more awake, and a lot less soft. It’s surprisingly stern, considering they’re laying in bed in the dark together, considering how Even has been feeling, considering how Isak’s been trying to be gentle and soft and helpful. 

 

“That’s against the laws of the universe,” Isak says, taking his hand from Even’s face. “It’s a part of you, Ev. I wouldn’t change it. The universe wouldn’t change it, not even if we’re… American, or Italian, or fish, or girls, or aliens.” 

 

“You wouldn’t change it?” Even whispers, almost hesitantly, that part sticking out much more to him than the part where Isak believes there’s a universe where they’re both fish.

 

Isak pauses. Even thinks to himself that Isak is probably wondering if he did something wrong, if he shouldn’t have made that comment. Or maybe, he was unsure about it in the first place, and he just didn’t know what to say. 

 

But then Isak shakes his head, tilting his chin up, properly looking at Even. “No,” he says, and he sounds confident this time, just as he had been in his first answer. His eyes shine fiercely, like he’d fight anyone on this— like he’d fight Even himself if he has to. 

 

“It’s a part of you,” he repeats, “It’s… I like you just how you are. I wouldn’t change anything. I wouldn’t change that you never do the laundry, or that you wake up so early in the mornings when I want to sleep all day.” He snuggles closer to Even. “I wouldn’t change that you’re bipolar. I wouldn’t change any of it. I used to….” 

 

Isak takes a slow breath in, and adjusts their blankets, his voice softening. “I used to think like that, too. Like maybe there’s a universe where I’m not gay. I know it’s not the same thing. But… but that’s one of the laws, Ev. I’m gay, and you’re bipolar. It’s us.” 

 

Even feels weird— not sad, per se, but like he might cry anyways, his eyes pricking at the corners with tears. Isak seems to notice, and he frowns. His hand is back to Even’s face, cupping it gently, thumbing away a tear. 

 

“Is that okay, baby?” Isak asks, softly. 

 

Even sniffles. He leans his cheek against Isak’s hand, blinks slowly, his lashes wet and clumping together. When he blinks, another tear rolls down his cheek. 

 

There are no assumptions with Isak, and he loves it that way. Isak always asks how he’s feeling, if he’s okay before he assumes. He still tries to watch over him, spend time taking care of him like Sonja did, but he’s so gentle about it. He’s so sweet. He feels less like a micromanager, and more like an anchor, or someone Even can lean on when everything’s spinning out of control. 

 

Even is not sad, at least not because of Isak’s words. Isak’s wholehearted acceptance doesn’t make him _ sad _ , but sometimes it overwhelms him with emotion. 

 

“I love you so much,” he whispers, before he can stop himself. 

 

Isak’s concern fades, and his lips curl up into half a smile. He leans in, meeting Even halfway in the middle to kiss him. “I love you,” he echoes, “Not despite this, but… including it. Yeah?” 

 

Even stares at Isak in awe, wondering what he did to deserve him. He can’t think of a single thing he’s ever done that is good enough to deserve Isak coming into his life. 

 

“I love you,” he whispers, again, like those are the only words he knows. It’s suddenly the most urgent thing in the world that Isak is aware. That if Isak knows he’s loved, it’ll somehow make up for the last few days of being too sad to really show him. 

 

Isak giggles, soft and innocent and happy. Even wants to bottle that noise up, to listen to it on repeat when he starts to feel alone inside his brain, because how can he be alone, when he makes Isak sound like that? How can he be alone when Isak is so happy to be next to him? 

 

“You said that,” Isak points out, but he clearly doesn’t mind hearing it again, if his smile is any indication. “I know, Ev. And I love you back.”

 

Even looks at Isak, his shoulders relaxing. He breaks out of his blanket cocoon, stretches one arm out of it. He wraps the arm around Isak’s back, and Isak melts into it, curling close to rest his head on Even’s chest. 

 

It’s closer to their usual dynamic— usually, Even is the one calling Isak ‘baby’ and snuggling him in close, kissing his head and making sure he’s comfortable. Lately it’s been the other way around. But even if it bothers him sometimes, he thinks Isak doesn’t mind babying him for a little. 

 

“Do you want to go back to sleep now?” Isak asks, and Even can hear the soft, sleepy tone of his voice, the yawn threatening to break through. It’s so cute, so sweet and domestic and soft. Even sighs. 

 

“Can we just lay here for a little?” He asks, just as quiet as Isak’s precious tone. 

 

“We can lay here forever,” Isak answers, and tilts his chin up, pressing a kiss to Even’s jaw. He recognizes the echo of his words so long ago, and it warms his heart to know that Isak remembered too. Of course, Isak is much more sentimental than he comes off. 

 

They really can stay forever. Isak is his  _ boyfriend,  _ there’s no Sonja, there’s no secrets, and they  _ live together.  _

 

“Isak,” he murmurs, after a few moments have passed. 

 

Isak tilts his chin up, his eyes droopy and a soft smile on his face. Even tilts his head down just enough so that he can see Isak, to see how comfortable Isak looks curled up against him. Even’s more in love than he ever thought was possible. It’s better than he wished for. It’s better than a movie, it’s better than an epic love story where the characters die. He’s not Romeo, Isak isn’t his Juliet— they’re just Even and Isak, and he’s more than happy with that. 

 

“I wouldn’t change anything about you either,” Even whispers. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
